


The Daisy Project

by koboli



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Anxiety, Bi Daisy, Character Study, Daisy Duck has ADHD, Daisy-centric, Fashion Show, Gen, Post Episode 'Louies Eleven', The IT List, author who knows nothing about fashion pretending to be stylish, minor Daisy/Minnie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koboli/pseuds/koboli
Summary: Daisy Duck has accomplished her goal of being featured on Emma Glamour's 'The IT List'. Opportunities Daisy has only ever dreamed of have become open to her. Here is one such day.
Relationships: Daisy Duck & Clarabelle Cow, Daisy Duck & Minnie Mouse
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	The Daisy Project

It is with great devastation that Daisy Duck pries her eyes open as the alarm in the far corner of her room blares louder than a foghorn. She stares at the device with disdain. Eyes opening wider with anger each time the alarm reaches its peak. Daisy wants nothing more than to reach out and slap the snooze button. The exact reason why the device was on the far side of her room, because her doing so has lead to her fair share of trouble.

If she keeps trying to destroy the clock with nothing but her mind, she will reunite with said trouble.

A muddled thought hits the Duck, like it draws itself out of deep and murky waters…. And it's hard to believe. Daisy actually wants to be awake. She’s looking forward to something, isn’t she? The epiphany gives her a burst of energy, and she swings herself out of bed and slams the off button on her clock. She stumbles slightly on her way; even with something to look forward to, she has never been a morning person.

Splashing water on her face, now in the bathroom, she pulls herself together. She grips the sides of her porcelain sink and stares intensely into the mirror. Her hair is sticking in all sorts of directions, signs of her restlessness even during sleep. There are bags under her eyes, visible under the coating of light feathers, leaving purple bruises. She forces a smile, relaxing her grip on the sink, reminding herself to love what she sees. 

A beautiful woman with dreams, who's a little weird, but reigns herself in among her peers. With aspirations she’s been told she’ll never reach, but refuses to give up despite that. A woman who above all knows that she is capable. 

It’s hard not to smile when she sees all that.

She follows through with her routine; eating, dressing, calling some friends of hers from college, while she does her makeup. It usually lines up that Daisy and her bestie Minnie are applying their looks at the same time. Daisy has always flirted with Minnie without meaning to, and actually it led to them dating for a good while before opportunities took them in separate directions, but Daisy’s connection and care for her never faded. Neither had Minnie’s for her.

Also on the call is Clarabelle, a Senior at their college when Daisy and Minnie were freshmen who took them under her wing. Her sense of fashion is part of what inspired Daisy to pursue designing. This burning urge to create something that would compliment Clarabelle’s incredible figure and style sense. 

“Good luck tonight.” Clarabelle says, her voice deep and smile clear. 

“Oh my gosh, yes!” Minnie cheers, “good luck, girly! You got this!”

Giving herself one last look over in the mirror, she is satisfied with the complimenting tones above her eyes and light blush on her cheeks. “Oh, I know I do.” She says with confidence, but appreciation is unmistakable in her tone. She doesn’t know what she’d do without her best friends. “Thanks, gals!”

An hour later and Daisy is out to lunch. Seated at a table with gorgeous people, with fantastic clothes. They’re at one of the finer restaurants in Duckburg, Daisy has had the opportunity to dine there a few times before, but always as a planner. Any memory she may have about how the food tastes is marred by her dedication to taking notes on her clients - all hyperfocus on their likes and dislikes, ensuring as few mistakes and faux-paus as possible. 

Employee today, she is not. Daisy Duck is here as a contributor. 

And contributors get to enjoy their food, and feel like she belongs at the table, Daisy firmly reminds herself. The show wasn’t super large, but it was important enough to be televised. However, the recording was decided at last-minute and the rehearsals had been somewhat brutal. Constant deadlines to meet, long hours, but not a lot of time to form a camaraderie with her fellow designers.

She tries to ignore the slight swoop in her gut. Taking in all the beautiful people sitting at her table, people she’s tried to speak with in passing and had gotten the cold shoulder. Something she is used to from her peers, assuming they find her strange and not worth their time. It makes Daisy want to prove herself, but... She’s seen all their designs, and they’ve seen hers, there isn’t anything left to show off… Except…

She places her napkin on her lap, delicately smoothing out her dress. 

This is her first time wearing this out. There’s a nagging whisper of self-doubt Daisy tries to convince herself to ignore. But even since she was a child, the hyperfast racing of her mind is hard to redirect. She feels so confident in this design, at least she did... This feels silly to her, but she’s unconsciously comparing herself to everyone around her, rather than enjoying their designs without bias.

The brown-grey of the dining room cause a warm light to flow throughout the restaurant, it feels a little cloying to Daisy. Conversation is buzzing from every direction, but she can’t follow a word of any of it. Her attempts to join in conversation get little attention. She considers grabbing her smartphone to occupy herself, but finds that a bit rude considering the event. The predetermined meal gets served and Daisy hadn't realized how much time had passed since sitting down, the ice in her water is more than half melted.

Nerves are getting the best of her, and that in itself sends a prickle of embarrassment down Daisy’s neck. She’s really hoping that embarrassment isn’t clear on her face, but it very much is. She gracefully shovels some food into her beak.

“I love your dress.” A flamingo sitting beside Daisy says, and their smile remains patient as the duck takes a moment to realize they’re talking to her. Of course she just took a huge bite.

Funnily enough, at his words, the doubt that she felt was cavernous and never-ending disappeared. Like a hole was filled in, and possibly never was even there in the first place. She gulps her rather large bite of food. “Thanks,” She says, sitting straighter to better show off the craftsmanship. A dark grey structured pencil piece that’s complemented with white and yellow sheer and lace. “I made it myself,” She adds. 

Only a moment later Daisy continues, “Your suit is fantastically sewn, I assume you made it yourself too?” She has a kindhearted smirk on her face. This designer in particular… She loves their work, them acknowledging her drove the nerves from being a rookie in the business down. Quieting her racing mind.

The Flamingo laughs in response. “Right you are, and I appreciate that eye you have there.” Much like Daisy, they show off some more of their suit jacket. A hyper dark black, must be some sort of velvet because it’s not reflecting any light. The thread used is a pink matching the exact tone of their feathers, sticking out in a way that keeps it subtle. “But I’m not surprised,” they continue, “your eye would have to be great to make it onto Emma Glamour’s IT-list.”

Daisy can’t help but smile wider at the memory. The very moment her career in fashion had become viable. The catalyst that led the woman to where she is right now. Having lunch with other designers as they all eagerly await the evening event. 

The runway show where, for the first time, actual models are going to display Daisy Duck’s Designs. 

“Oh, you saw that,” Daisy says around a laugh, barely stopping herself from preening, flipping a wrist lackadaisically instead. “I was actually her assistant for awhile,” She continues, oversharing a bit. “With all the amazing trends I would see her add to the list, I kept feeling like I never had a chance. Was even told so, a couple times, when I got a chance to talk with people who made ‘IT’.” She laughs and waves it off, able to find amusement in the flamingo’s muttered “Owch.”

“Anyway, clearly I did have a chance, and it was only after I beat up the jerks who tried to ruin my party!” She says, and then corrects herself. “Her party!”

The flamingo looks like they were going to ask a question, but the glass of the runway show’s director rings out as she hits it with a spoon. Conversations peter out and soon everyone is looking at the very trendy tiger. She starts giving a speech, but Daisy finds herself reviewing her interaction with her table neighbor. To judge if she had been awkward. She finds she probably had been. 

She also finds she should be listening to Mrs. Rayures instead of letting her thoughts get ahead of the moment. “.. And with that! Everybody, enjoy your food. We look forward to seeing what each of your modern, forward thinking minds have to show us tonight.”

Daisy tries not to feel too bad about missing most of what the director had said, focus was something she has struggled with for most of her life at this point. A reason why she took furious notes as a planner, and intern. She’ll be able to prove how all in she is at the show tonight. 

Visions of the night float through her mind, excitement stirs in her belly and flutters up to her chest. She can’t deny she’s nervous, but more so she is ready to show this opportunity that nothing can stop Daisy Duck! 

… Nothing except the chaos in her workshop.

Before she knows it, two hours have passed, and she can feel the passage of time weighing heavily on her mind. This workspace chaos that she claims is organized, and usually she can understand it’s complexity! She swears by it. 

There's just something about knowing a big event is a few hours a way that messes with her ability to find things. 

Rather than fussing herself into a tizzy, she breathes in deep, eyes clenched shut, and counts to ten. Opens her eyes, gets frustrated with herself, and repeats the process.

Then once more.

She finds equilibrium. The layout makes sense, the slowness of her breathing pushes anxiety about time to a place she can’t remember it. She gathers everything necessary and piles it carefully by the door. Taking the next moment to fix up her makeup, something fitting for the occasion. The sequin gown she slides into is something she is incredibly proud of. A tribute to her marble-toned IT-list dress, but with the addition of a soft pink and yellow to the teal. Mostly it was black, rather than navy, conscious of not being too loud when adding the other colors. 

The dress is also a bit longer, but she’s able to wear the same shoes. Daisy changes bows a couple times, indecisive. For a moment she considers digging up some stockings. It’s all too easy to get lost in final touch-ups to her own look.

Luckily, the anxiety about time she had hidden away flies back at full force and she hurries back into action. But she has planned for this, as everything is still by the door. She grabs the suitcase with each of the designs she’s showcasing tonight, and a few backups to be safe. And the other bag with extra fabric, her mobile sewing kit, her hair styling kit, her sentimental photo of her nieces in outfits she designed for their dance competition. Lastly her purse and car keys. Daisy goes over everything twice for good measure. 

Finding no time left to waste, Daisy’s engine revs and she drives off the parking lot of her rented workshop. 

So focused on the event to come, the drive feels phenomenally short. She finds a parking space, but doesn’t move after claiming it. Simply sitting in the front seat of her convertible, her hands clutching her steering wheel that would whiten her knuckles if they weren’t already. Suddenly Daisy squeals, nearly shouting, in an attempt to free the pressure of excitement in her chest. Nerves are there, but they have no chance of comparing to the rush of excitement overtaking her entire being.

After regulating her breathing, Daisy checks her makeup in the rearview mirror. Finding everything in order, she takes one more moment to really look at herself. She reminds herself to love what she sees.

But she doesn’t need the reminder.

Daisy Duck is a beautiful woman whose dreams are coming true, who’s a little weird, but loves herself all the more for it. With aspirations within her reach, and will put any amount of work to achieve them. A woman who, above all, knows that she is capable. 

It’s easy to smile when she sees all that.

**Author's Note:**

> wanted to write something about daisy where the focus wasn't her romantic availability! 
> 
> thank you so much for reading!!


End file.
